


When Rose the Tide

by Silver33650



Series: Tarnished Ghosts and Polished Shadows [12]
Category: Fortnite (Video Game)
Genre: 7.8/10 too much water, Gen, Memory Loss, Post-Apocalypse, Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27786271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver33650/pseuds/Silver33650
Summary: Ocean, leading a rebellion that never quite gets off the ground.
Series: Tarnished Ghosts and Polished Shadows [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923190
Kudos: 4





	When Rose the Tide

When Ocean was called into John Jones' office, she assumed she was in trouble. She didn't know much about him or what he worked on, besides that it was highly confidential, highly critical, and highly dangerous. Working on his team was highly prestigious; it was said that the company president himself had worked on John's projects before he stepped down, although details were scarce. Ocean took all the rumors with a grain of salt, naturally, but couldn't help but be curious. Ghost was usually a pretty quiet workplace, but lately, things had been hectic across every department, even outside of espionage, and she had a feeling it was related to something his team had done. 

John was carrying a stack of folders when he sat down across from her. Attached to the top one was a photo of herself, but more surprising was the fact that the folder bore a TOP SECRET stamp that still looked wet. 

"Why am I here?" Ocean asked, while he shifted through papers. 

"Because we need someone who is very comfortable on the water for this mission, and you're our best candidate, even though you weren't previously high enough clearance. Obviously that's been corrected." He tapped the stamp before he started sifting through the stack of folders, pulling out pages seemingly at random. "How do you feel about sharks?"

"They're not usually hostile-"

"These ones would be." He slid a photo of one toward her. It was huge, sporting more teeth than any animal had any business having. "Listen, Ocean, we don't have a lot of time here, but we need someone to go to a very dangerous place that has only gotten more dangerous, and I think you're the best fit for the job. 

"Explain."

John filled her in, about an island and its loop, about its strange amnesia and communication barriers, about its storm and the failed attempt to stop it that scattered the team to the winds. "Shadow has taken over, but there's still hope if we get a leader in there. We have ways of preventing the amnesia, but nothing's certain. I know it's a lot to ask-"

"I'll do it."

John didn't bother asking twice; he just smiled and made some notes. "Preparations are already underway, so be quick. We won't be sending anyone with you, but there should be people there you can ally with." He pointed out the pictures of the agents who would be most likely to help her: Brutus and Skye. "If all else fails, you should be able to find someone who looks like me pretty quickly."

"Do you have a twin?"

"No, I'm apparently the Elm Street of the multiverse." His chuckle was halfway a scoff. "Oh, and one last thing." He slid over another photo. "If you see this man, arrest him on sight."

"Isn't this-"

"Yes, that's Midas. And he has a lot of explaining to do."

* * *

But here's the thing about the island: Ghost never knew just how little they really understood. 

Never understood just how the loop wound its way into the minds of those it caught. Never understood how it could sweep away some things while digging into others and twisting them out of shape. How some memories could fit into the mosaic of things already present on the island, spun into new histories out of thin air; how some thoughts were just rotted away into waste on inception, replaced by seeds of a new past. How some people could resist more, how others had no chance at all. 

All of their precautions were little more than darts thrown at a dam. For when one enters a place so close to zero, how can anything survive save what was already infinite?

* * *

Ocean was probably the sole person on the island who was happy about the flood. She'd been playing in the water since she was a child, splashing and swimming and diving her days away. Now she was hardly ever dry, searching the waves for anything worth salvaging. So much had been lost in the flood, and there were plenty of rewards available for those willing to find missing valuables. 

Strange things were happening on the island, however. Or rather, above it. 

The first time it had happened, she'd been terrified. The sky splitting open for a moment, and something falling through. But it had landed so far away that she'd never found out what it was. She heard reports from fellow drifters later: people emerging from pods, wearing animal helmets and heavily armed. Marauders, from other worlds. 

She supposed it had only been a matter of time. The island had always been a magnet for weirdness like this. 

After the marauders appeared, it became safer to move in groups, so she teamed up with the drifters she knew best and built a hideout on the waves out of whatever they could find that couldn't be sold. It was comfortable enough, even cozy after a while, mostly due to the people who lived there. 

They were a strange bunch, her drifters. She had a feeling the marauders weren't the only ones coming through rifts, but she kept that thought to herself. It didn't change the fact that these people were her friends, for better or worse. Mostly better, since their salvaging business brought in enough money that they never went hungry. 

One day, they found a job for a large sum that requested relics from the Agency. Those were rare, and many salvagers avoided collecting such items out of fear. The Authority wasn't completed, but Shadow was watching all the same; they'd seen the silver owl in the sky, circling the island and returning to its master every day. But Ocean's crew wasn't afraid of anything, so they picked up whatever they could find with the Ghost emblem, packed it all into a boat, and headed to the drop point. 

They never knew who they would meet. The island was home to many strange creatures, and attracted more all the time. Men in combat gear were as common as women in flashy attire. Once they had even made a delivery to a sentient hot dog. But today, there was an ordinary man waiting for them, though he cut an imposing figure. He asked them how much they had. 

"As much as can be found," Ocean replied. "We're the only crew brave enough to pick it up."

"Show me."

She pulled a mug out of her pack. The man took it, peering at the Ghost emblem on the side. "We have twenty more of those," she told him. 

"What about-"

"Those filing cabinet pictures? Fifteen. Nineteen of the table portraits. And we managed to grab one of the big marble facades from the front of the building. You said you'd pay triple for that, right?"

"-any Ghost recruitment posters?"

"Oh." Her face fell. Those had been worth the most. "We couldn't find any of those anywhere. Think Shadow got them all."

His expression didn't change. "What's your name, kid?"

"Ocean."

"I'm afraid I can't pay you, Ocean."

She reached for her dagger. 

"I've had problems finding my... funding source. But I can offer you payment of a different sort, if you're willing to talk."

She wasn't willing to let down her guard yet. "So let's talk."

"Not here. Let's go back to your place." He held up his hands. "I'm unarmed. Promise."

"Tell me your name."

One corner of his mouth turned upwards. "It's Brutus."

* * *

Their hideout was spread across a few garbage islands that had floated closely enough for bridges to be built between them. They'd collected any debris that wouldn't sell that could be used as building materials- boards and steel sheets- and tied them across tires to keep them afloat, then built huts upon them out of what was left. 

Was the Fortilla beautiful? No. No, it was not. But was it defensible, habitable, comfortable? Yes to all. It was a nice enough place that Meowscles trusted her to babysit Kit from time to time. The Fortilla was key to their success.

Brutus surveyed the place and gave it a small nod of approval. "You the leader here?"

"Pretty much? The others don't talk much."

He frowned but didn't comment. "You hold your own against the marauders?"

She laughed. "We haven't lost yet."

"Show me." She reached for her pickaxe, but he shook his head. "No weapons."

She snorted. "You're serious?"

He put on his helmet and raised his fists. 

Her crew gathered around, curious. Ocean sighed and raised her own fists. Before he had a chance to take a swing, she dealt a perfectly aimed uppercut square into his jaw, sending his helmet flying into the air. It landed neatly in her hands, to her delight. 

She heard the sound of waves and noticed Meowscles on the horizon, riding a shark. She waved, while her crew laughed at Brutus laying flat on his back. 

* * *

They revived Brutus by dumping a bucket of ice water on his face, and he awoke sputtering. His eyes found Ocean's immediately. "How'd you do that, kid?"

She shrugged. "Self-defense classes. Are you gonna pay us yet?"

"Show me the rest of the Agency salvage."

"No." She pulled out her dagger and pointed it at him. "Not until you explain what you want it for, and why you can't pay us."

He sighed. "I told you, I'm missing some funds."

"How does that relate to the stuff from the Agency?"

"Because I used to work for Ghost."

Ocean lowered her weapon. "Ghost is gone."

"Not if I have anything to say about it. And I hope you'd be willing to say the same."

She didn't say anything. She had stayed out of the spy games, watching the agents with bemusement as they picked up cases and traded folders across the island. They weren't very secretive, putting their posters up everywhere and being so brazen as to buy shops in Retail Row, to say nothing of the Agency itself. But when the flood appeared and the Authority rose, Ocean knew which group had her support, even though it was too late. Or so she'd thought. 

"I need someone for what's left of Ghost to rally around. To hold down the fort until we can regroup."

"What happened to your old leader?"

Brutus stiffened. "I don't know."

Ocean remembered the man on the Ghost recruitment posters. The one who'd set up the Agency, brought the flood, and vanished. "Is that why you wanted those posters so much?"

"Somewhat."

"Why don't you do it?"

"I have other things to do," he said. "So I need someone I can trust. Someone capable. Tough. Charismatic."

"And you think that's me?" she scoffed. 

"You were the only one brave enough to take on my salvaging job."

She crossed her arms. "What's in it for me?"

"Resisting the Authority. Providing a safe place for the remaining members of Ghost. And someday? Maybe quite a lot of money."

She bit her lip. 

"You don't want to live under the eye of that owl forever, do you?"

She hated that owl. The first time she'd tried to grab a padded chair floating around Weeping Woods, it had swooped down and pecked at her until she dropped it. It had circled her for hours before giving up and returning to the Authority, and by that time, it was too late to go back for the chair, and she'd been forced to return home empty-handed. "I don't."

"Then let's find you something to wear."

* * *

They found a worn pink vest with a faded Ghost emblem on it, and an extra henchman helmet. Ocean painted it while she waited for Brutus to return with the remaining Ghost agents. She used bright colors that stood out against the white. She turned it, checking that the sides were symmetrical, and got paint on her fingers. 

Brutus returned at dusk with a crowd of identically-dressed figures. She ran to the dock wearing a frown. "It's all henchmen?"

He stepped out of the boat. "Did I say otherwise?"

"No, but... you had other agents, right? Like that girl at the Shark? Skye?"

He frowned. "Don't know what happened to her. Or anyone else, for that matter. We all went our separate ways after... what happened."

"So it's just me."

"For now." He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Like I said, we need to regroup. Lay low for a while. But someday..."

"The fight's not over until I say so," she said. 

"That's right. Keep an eye on the sharks, okay?"

* * *

With the henchmen's help, the Fortilla grew even larger. They hid servers and communication relays behind sheets of scrap metal and built towers with satellites. They built a mall for food and a gas station for fuel and even managed to set up a vault. Ocean painted the Ghost emblem on as many walls as possible, so that anyone who saw their lights would know who they were. She wasn't afraid of the owl seeing. She had an army now. She wasn't afraid of the Authority. 

She wasn't afraid of the strangers who came to Fortilla, either, who carried all manner of pickaxes until they scooped up something better. But none of them had anything as good as her. She prowled the waters of the base with her burst assault rifle, a last gift from Brutus. Most times, she was able to stay out of sight, but sometimes they found her and even bested her, and she would find herself back in the dining hall with a headache, dazed. It was still better than the bus, she figured. 

If anything, the sharks scared her the most. They found their way into the Fortilla fairly often, leaping at henchmen and devouring their precious resources. The henchmen were useless against them, but at least the strangers helped... until they spotted her, and changed their target. Every time she heard about a defeated shark on the radio, she would swim as fast as possible to inspect the loot, but there was never anything interesting. The sharks had a strange taste for metal and lead, it seemed. 

And every day, at dawn and dusk, they'd open the radio channel. "This is the Fortilla, calling any and all loyal to Ghost. Report to the Fortilla, and we will rise like the tide. This is the Fortilla..."

Ocean was cheered when one day, finally, Skye showed up. Ocean gave her a full tour, pointing out their amenities with pride, although she could tell Skye wasn't impressed in the least. It still hurt when Skye turned down her offer to join them. "I'm just looking for the boss," Skye said.

"What's so great about him?" Ocean asked. She'd asked the henchmen about him in the past, and their answers had run the full spectrum, from grudging respect to undeniable disdain. _Kept to himself too much. Arrogant. Too clever by half. Paid well, but never did get those bonuses and raises he promised._

"Nothing, if I'm being honest," Skye said, shrugging. Her hat gave a little sigh. "But he has a lot of explaining to do."

There was something about that line that sounded very familiar, but Ocean couldn't put her finger on it. 

* * *

When would it be time to give up hope? She couldn't ask it aloud. There was no one but the henchmen to hear, and she couldn't risk them losing their morale. But sometimes she would run to the top of the broadcast tower, with the excuse of making an inspection, just to look out over the Fortilla. They had so, so little. And there was the owl in the sky, making its rounds. The eyes of the enemy who had so, so much. 

The sound of gunfire caught her attention. She turned around, trying to find the source, and spotted a figure on the south side who was firing wildly at a shark. She squinted at his pistol, confused how it could shine in the twilight the way it did. Then she heard the distinctive click of low ammunition, and knew she had to move fast. She grabbed her radio and called for backup as she sprinted down the stairs. She met up with a few henchmen at the bottom, and together, they swam south. 

They found him near the cabbage patch, devouring the whole crop. He stopped when he spotted them, raising his pistol. He leered at her, but his gaze softened at the sight of the henchmen. Slightly. "This is what's left of my empire?" he scoffed, lowering his gun. 

She had a feeling she knew who he was, this man with the golden hands, but it was hard to reconcile the confident grin of the man from the poster with the manic sneer he sported now. "What are you doing here?" she asked. 

"I'm here because it's clear this island is doomed in its current state." He straightened his tie. "Get me to a radio, would you? I have a few calls to make."


End file.
